


An Exchange Between Two Queens

by kat_snow2613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And morbid, Angst, Blood, F/M, R Plus L Equals J, Revenge, Torture, Vaginal Sex, this got dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14212554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_snow2613/pseuds/kat_snow2613
Summary: Sansa and Cersei meet to exchange their two most valuable prisoners.





	1. Chapter 1

A cold, bitter wind whipped around them, slicing through Sansa’s furs to leave her shivering. Moat Cailin stood behind them, an ominous shadow. Brienne stood next to Sansa. Sansa was keeping her close today. She trusted Brienne with her own life, but not with the prisoner’s. Not this prisoner. She needed someone who would not hesitate to strike his head from his shoulders if it were necessary. She’d assigned the prisoner to Sandor Clegane.

The Lannister guard approached.

Her Queensguard assembled around her. She had about fifty Lannister guards, and her Queensguard. Their black armour seemed unnatural and sinister, as if it were forged by the Stranger rather than the Smith.

One of them threw Jon on the ground in front of Cersei.

His hands were bound behind his back, and he was gagged. His eyes were black and blue and his ear was bloody but he was alive. She wanted to run to him, but she forced herself to move neither her body nor face. 

Cersei watched Sansa. Her lips twisted in a smile. 

“Little Dove.”

Every curse word Sansa knew ran through her head. She wanted to tell Cersei she was not a lion, but a serpent.

“Your Grace.”

Cersei looked at Sansa’s guards, and the three hundred Northmen behind them. It was excessive, Sansa knew, but she wasn’t taking any chances. 

“You’ve done quite well for yourself, Little Dove. From a scared little girl to the Lady of Winterfell, with a band of savages behind you. And all you had to do was murder my son.”

Sansa remembered Joffrey clawing at his throat. Did anyone deserve to die like that, even Joffrey? 

“I didn’t kill your son, Cersei. You can blame Olenna Tyrell and Petyr Baelish for that. In fact, I had Baelish executed myself. Justice, finally, for your broken heart. How do you plan to thank me?” Sansa asked, barely containing the boiling venom in her chest.

“Yes, and I wonder how many songs you sang to the Tyrells, to make them think you were an innocent babe who suffered at the hands of Joffrey, of course through no fault of your own. What did you promise Baelish to move him? Your maidenhead?” 

“If you think Petyr Baelish could be moved by that, you’re greater fool than I thought.”

The two women stared at each other, their respective guards unsure of what to do. 

Cersei looked down at Jon. 

“Imagine my surprise when the King in the North turned up at my gate with a peace banner–”

“You showed such consideration for that peace banner–”

“And imagine my surprise when you were willing to trade brother for brother.”

Jaime Lannister kneeled in front of Sandor. He was in chains, and Sandor held a rope around his neck. 

“Strange though. What is Jon to you? He’s not even a true born brother. He’s a bastard. A reminder of your father’s infidelity, who stole your claim. Why trade him for the heir to Casterly Rock?”

“And Jaime has betrayed you. Yet you still trade for him.” 

Cersei ignored the comment. She looked so pleased with herself, like a cat with a mouse dangling from it’s jaws.

“Jon did well under torture, you should know. He resisted telling us for so long. But eventually, Qyburn hears everyone’s secrets.”

The thought of Jon being tortured made Sansa want to wrap her hands around Cersei’s throat, regardless of the black sentinels that surrounded her. 

“I can’t imagine how fascinating his secrets were. Did he tell you the secret ingredient of Hobb’s stew? I hear it’s salt pork.”

“No, but he told me about the taste of your cunt. He told me that he’s fucked you against one of your sacred trees.”

For a moment, Sansa thought time had stopped. She thought the world itself stood still. But then she heard three hundred Northmen gasp and she knew the world was still moving.

Sansa meant to live the rest of her life with that secret. She meant to die with it. But Cersei told the world about the only thing that mattered to her. 

“Do you deny it?” she asked, with all the sweetness of curdled milk. 

Sansa looked at the ground. She made a decision. 

“I don’t deny it. There’s no sweeter pleasure than one that’s forbidden. But I don’t need to tell you that. So let’s exchange our lovers and be done with it.”

Sansa had never seen Cersei look so happy. She’d won. She got Jaime back, and discredited Jon and Sansa in front of their bannermen.

The Mountain picked Jon up by the rope that was tied around his chest and dragged him to the flag that had been planted in the ground. His body twisted in pain. Sansa prayed that Sandor would be just as kind. He pulled Jaime towards the flag by the leash around his neck. The Kingslayer had to force his hand between his neck and the rope to keep from choking. 

The two bodies were thrown down. The Cleganes looked at each other, a staring contest between the dead and the living. Bring him to me. Don’t do anything stupid. 

Sandor threw Jon over his shoulder as if he were a child. He backed away, never taking his eyes off of the grotesque creature. He placed Jon at Sansa’s feet. She knelt and undid the gag in his mouth. 

“Are you hurt, my love?”

“I’m alright,” he struggled to say, his voice raw. 

“Is she planning anything else?”

“Not that I know of.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. She stood, and faced Cersei.

“Cersei.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with? If not, I suggest you tend to your bannermen. I fear they might be angry with you.”

“I speak with them often. Only recently, I spoke with Lord Howland Reed, one of my father’s most loyal bannermen. He told me the most fascinating story. Would you like to hear it?”

“Why would I want to hear the song of an unwashed barbarian?”

“Oh Cersei, I think you’ll find it quite fascinating. He told me about the attempt to rescue my Aunt Lyanna from a Tower in Dorne. Sadly, they were too late to save her. But they did save her son. A little black haired baby boy. He looked enough like my father to pass him off as his own son, even though he’s not a bastard, not at all.”

Cersei’s eyes went wide. 

“Thank you, Cersei, for returning Rhaegar Targaryen’s son to me. Once Jon and I are wed, will take the Seven Kingdoms out from underneath you, one by one.”

Her golden face distorted in rage. Sansa continued. 

“My father made you an offer. Get on a ship. Sail as far as you can. I make the same offer. Take it if you will. If not, I will end you.”

Cersei screamed. It was a deep, guttural scream. The scream of a woman who just returned the rightful King to safety. 

“Bring me her head!” 

Cersei was not someone people wanted to die for. The only one who rushed forward was the Mountain, a black nightmare running towards her. 

Sandor leapt, his steel flashing. He struck the blow he’d been waiting for his entire life. The giant’s head was sliced from his body. 

Sansa watched as the ground absorbed the black blood.

“I would have spent the rest of my life North of the Neck, Cersei. I would have loved Jon in secret. But you forced my hand. You did this to yourself.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa reunite after his captivity. 
> 
> TW: Blood.

Sansa knocked on the chamber door in Moat Cailin.  

 

“Come in,” Samwell Tarly’s voice came through the door.  

 

Jon had taken off his shirt and was sitting on the bed so Sam could tend to his wounds.  Sansa gasped. One of Jon’s nipples had been cut off. Ugly black stitches stuck out from his skin where there had once been a perfect pink pillow.  Sansa loved to take Jon’s nipples in her mouth until he groaned and twisted in pleasure. If she had Cersei executed for that nipple alone, it would be justice.  

 

“How is he?” Sansa asked Sam.  

 

“He’s survived worse.  I think he’ll be alright in a few days,” Sam said, wrapping a bandage around Jon’s arm.  Red flowers blossomed on the white bandage. 

 

“I’m fine,” Jon insisted, even though he was clearly in pain.  Sam poured some milk of the poppy into a cup and handed it to him.  He drank it and handed the cup back.

 

“I think that’s all I can do for you,” Sam said, once the bandage was secure.  

 

“Thank you,” Jon said.  

 

“Thank you, Sam. Would you be so kind as to leave us?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Once they were alone, Sansa went to Jon and dropped to her knees in front of him.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and he held her tightly. She kissed him. His mouth tasted bitter, the taste of old blood mingling with the medicine, but underneath was still the taste of Jon.  

 

“Sansa, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.  

 

“No, my love, don’t–”

 

“You were right.  I was such a fool.  I should have listened to you,” he said, holding her face in his hands.  

 

“It’s alright,” she said.  

 

“But I understand now.  I finally understand. We will never be safe as long as she lives.  Any children we have will never be safe as long as she lives,” he said.  He was right. They had won the day, but Cersei would never stop pursuing them. 

 

“I will make my claim as King.  I will take you as my Queen. And we will finally bring justice to Cersei Lannister.  You have my word,” Jon said, his hand on her face. She turned and kissed his palm. 

 

“I know you don’t want this,” she said.

 

“No, I don’t, but I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe,” he said, his fingers tangling into her hair.  His breath caught in his throat. “Sansa, I thought I would never see you again. I’ve never been so scared.”

 

Despite the rawness of the moment, a small laugh escaped her lips.  “You’ve faced an army of dead men.”

 

“Yes, and I have never been as frightened as when I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” he said, tears in his eyes.  He brushed them away. 

 

“I’m right here, Jon, and we’re never going to be separated again, do you understand?” she said.  

 

He kissed her desperately, his mouth crashing against hers.  He tugged on her dress. 

 

“Sansa, I need you,” he said, sucking on her ear.  

 

“You’re in pain,” she protested, even as her hands stroked his thighs.

 

“I don’t care,” he said as his hand slid down the front of her dress to cup her breast.  She felt a need for him pooling under his fingers, were they pressed into her flesh. She stood. 

 

“Lie down.”

 

He eased back on the bed and pushed his pants down his legs.  His cock sprang up. She was relieved to see he seemed unhurt below the waist.  He watched her undress. She sank down onto his cock, and was flooded with relief as soon as she did.  Jon was home. He was where he belonged–inside of her. 

 

“Oh, thank the gods,” Sansa moaned.

 

“No, damn the gods.  They are cruel and indifferent.  You are all that matters,” he said, his hands grabbing her arms and pulling her down to his mouth.  

 

She bucked her hips as they kissed madly. She pulled away and licked his mouth, his face, his neck, anything her tongue could cover.  Their thrusting had disturbed some of his wounds, and beads of blood bubbled up on his skin. Sansa licked those too. Any part of him belonged inside of her, whether it was his seed or his sweat or his blood.  She wanted all of him. They kissed again, the metallic taste moving back and forth between their mouths. 

 

“You don’t mind the taste?” he asked when they were able to pull away.  

 

“There is no part of you I do not love.”

 

He groaned, perhaps in pain, perhaps in pleasure, or whatever combination of pain and pleasure was currently mingled in his body.  Sansa grinded her body against his. He pressed down on the based of her spine, in the exact spot that amplified the pressure all over her body.  She cried out, clutching him. 

 

“Almost, almost, almost,” she chanted against his shoulder.  

 

“That’s a girl.  That’s my good girl.  It’s right there for you, Sansa, just reach out and take it.  Take what’s yours.”

 

“You’re mine,” she mumbled.  “All mine.”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

She came with a high, shaking moan.  He was close behind her, clutching her hips and thrusting.   She did not lie down right away, as was their habit, but got some linens and water to clean the wounds that had opened during their love.  She rebandaged him where he needed it.

 

“I’m going to make sure everyone who hurt you dies a painful death,” she said, tying a knot in the linen.  

 

“Yes, I know, now come lie with me,” he said, lifting an arm for her to crawl under.  She settled into him, careful to not put too much pressure on his injuries. 

 

Sansa did not want to think about what they had to do.  For now, she just wanted to feel Jon’s skin, and hear the sound of his breath, and be close to him.


	3. Chapter 3

_ Jaime and Cersei have fled to Casterly Rock.  Jon and Sansa’s forces surround the castle and finally take it.  Jon and his troops enter the castle.  _

 

Jon walked through the halls of Casterly Rock.  Even basic comforts were strange to him, but the sheer decadence of this place was absurd.  There wasn’t a surface to be found that wasn’t gilded. The thought of all of this wealth hanging on the walls while people were starving filled him with anger. 

 

“King Jon,” Lord Glover called to him.  “We’ve found them.”

 

They took him to a bedroom.  Fine carpets covered the floors, and heavy tapestries hung on the walls.  A western facing window filled the room with the setting sun, catching the gold that seemed to be on every available surface.  There was a marble table, and the fireplace was framed in matching marble. The bed was a sight with four thick columns, with gold leaves twisting up till they framed roaring lions.  On the bed’s silk blankets were the bodies of Cersei and Jaime. They might have been sleeping peacefully, if not for the grotesque angle of Cersei’s neck and the pools of blood around Jaime’s wrists.  Jon draped a gold cloth over them. The cloth absorbed Jaime’s blood, but the gold thread still shone against the red, a final mockery of their proud sigil. 

 

Sansa entered, flanked by Brienne and Pod.  

 

“They’re dead,” he said.  

 

“Wait outside,” she told them.  

 

She walked to the bed and lifted the shroud.  She stared hard at their faces, the faces that had caused her and so many other people so much pain.  He wondered if she would scream, or cry, or laugh. 

 

“They died together,” she said.  

 

“They did.”

 

“They loved each other,” she said.  

 

“They did.  And that love made them do terrible things.”

 

She replaced the shroud but didn’t move. She looked up at him and said the last thing he ever thought she would say.

 

“This could have been us.”

 

Jon watched the gold thread catch the sunlight as Sansa smoothed the cloth.  

 

“If Howland Reed hadn’t told us a twenty year old secret, our love would have been just as doomed as theirs.  And we would have done horrible things to protect it, we  _ have _ done horrible things to do just that.”

 

Jon thought about all of the lives that had been lost for this war.  All of the lies and deceit and death that had been necessary along the way.  And then he said the last thing he thought he would ever say. 

 

“I know.”  

 

They stood on either side of the bed, their dead enemies between them.  Sansa spoke. 

 

“We’ll need to mount their heads above the walls, but their bodies should be buried with the full honors according to their rank and title.”

 

“Aye.”

 

She finally looked away from their bodies and around the room.  

 

“Quite the bedroom,” she said.  He walked to the marble table and picked up a gold peacock with rubies for its eyes and sapphires dotting its plumage.

 

“Do you want a gold peacock?” he asked.  

 

“No, but all of this gold will go a long way towards rebuilding Winterfell and feeding hungry people.”

 

“Indeed,” he said.  He held out his hand to her.  “Let them rest, and let us see how much more food hangs on the walls of Casterly Rock.”  

 

They left, the sun sinking into the west, finally setting on House Lannister.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm not sure if Cersei would still trade for Jaime, but I got this idea for a confrontation between Cersei and Sansa and couldn't get it out of my head.


End file.
